


Wonderwall

by Garunala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Pining Dean, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8604691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garunala/pseuds/Garunala
Summary: Wonderwall:adjective; someone you find yourself thinking about all the time; the person you are completely infatuated with





	

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language, so if you find any obvious mistakes tell me so I can fix them. I would love feedback and criticism as long as it´s constructive, I know my writing is far from perfect and I´m eager to improve.

Wonderwall; adjective; someone you find yourself thinking about all the time; the person you are completely infatuated with

 

Dean wakes up in a tangle of sheets too soft for a motel. When he cracks open an eye he´s met with a plain green wall instead of horrendous wallpaper, there´s a cute, flower-shaped mirror and a montage of photos. A girls place, then. 

He remembers his hookup when he sees her standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but panties and an oversized shirt, two cups of coffee in her hands. She holds herself a little awkwardly, shoulders hunched and curled in protectively, and her smile is a little unsure. Dean remembers that her name is Amy, then, and that he´d gone home with her after she´d flirted with endearing clumsiness, all shy smiles and quick glances from beneath curled eyelashes. 

She looks ridiculously young in the morning light, without make up, her hair a messy tangle of curls, innocent and sweet. 

“Morning.” He slurs, voice rough with sleep, and her smile widens a little. 

“Morning. Is black coffee alright?” 

Dean nods, takes the coffee with a gruff but honest “Thanks.”, and her brown eyes light up. He´s fine with pretending he´s going to ever see her again for a while. Just as long as she doesn´t expect him to stay, he hates the awkwardness and drama when a girl doesn´t get the purpose of hooking up. It´s called a one night stand for a reason, and he wouldn´t stay even if he wasn´t a hunter. 

They have coffee in comfortable silence and Dean takes the opportunity to get dressed when Amy takes the empty cups back to the kitchen. She smiles a little sadly when she finds him at the door, putting on his boots and shrugging into his jacket. 

It´s obvious she has no idea what to say and he cups her cheek and kisses her before the awkward can settle in. Her mouth is warm and soft under his and she readily parts her lips when he slides his tongue over her bottom lip, sighing wistfully when he pulls back. Dean smiles at her, presses another kiss to her cheek and leaves her there. She´s a good girl, and he feels a little regretful that it isn´t enough to make him want to stay.  
***  
Sam is waiting for him when he returns to the motel, curled up in a chair too small for him with his laptop resting on his knees. He looks up when Dean enters, looking like he can´t decide whether he´s annoyed or curious. 

“Dude, what the hell? You never stay at their place that long, did she handcuff you to the bed, or what?” 

Dean huffs, rolls his eyes and dangles the grease stained bag he brought in front of Sam´s nose. He´s not about to tell Sam he stayed longer because he wanted to pretend he was normal for a little while. That he isn´t stuck with a monster nestled in his chest, rearing its ugly head at the worst moments. 

“Quit bitching, I don´t need a babysitter. I brought breakfast.” 

Sam scrunches up his nose, looking at the stains reproachfully, and Dean rolls his eyes again. 

“Yeah, I brought you that sissy rabbit food you love so much.” 

His brother lightens right up when he finds the oatmeal with fruit, and Dean pretends to be disgusted while watching his brother from the corner of his eyes, taking in his relaxed posture and animated gestures as Sam fills him in on a potential new case he´s found. He ignores the tugging in his chest and tears his eyes away, concentrates on his hash browns instead.  
***  
Dean loves the Impala. There´s a reason he calls her his baby, and while he knows Sam loves her too, he´ll never understand why Dean has an, in Sam´s words, ´unhealthy, slightly creepy relationship´ with her. For Dean, the Impala is home. He´s spend most of his childhood in the backseat with Sam, countless hours on the road, and there´s no place he feels safer than behind Baby´s wheel, Sam at his side. He loves driving, doesn´t mind spending most of his days on endless highways, winding streets and dirt roads- although those are poison for his baby, so he tries to avoid them. When there´s good music, the Impalas reassuring purr and Sam, Dean is the happiest. 

But for years now that simple pleasure has been tainted, because the Impala isn´t all that spacious and Sam is right there, radiating warmth and smiling, dimples showing, and giving Dean one of the millions of variations of his bitchface, and eating candy with Dean and complaining about his music because the kid just doesn´t have any taste. He´s right there in Dean´s space, close enough for Dean to touch, for hours and hours on end, and the sickness in Dean rejoices at the thought, makes him itch to reach over and put his hand on Sam´s thigh. 

Sometimes Sam falls asleep, face slack and relaxed, looking innocent and years younger, and everything in Dean longs to stroke his brothers hair, burry his fingers in the tangled locks he always teases his brother about and comb through them the way he did when Sam was just a kid and it wasn´t sick for Dean to touch him like that. 

Sam smiles at him, dimples showing, and the sickness in Dean crows, screams that Sam is happy, he´s making Sam happy, maybe it´s enough, maybe Sam won´t leave him again. Dean swallows thickly and smiles back, hopes it doesn´t look as stiff and stilted as it feels and is glad the shotgun seat isn´t glaringly empty anymore.  
***  
The motel is just like every other motel they´ve ever stayed in. Garish colors, ugly wallpaper, mismatched furniture and cigarette-burn holes in the stained carpet. It smells the same, too, musty, like stale smoke and sex. At least it doesn´t smell like piss or vomit, like some of them do. Though, honestly, Dean doesn´t mind the motels so much. It´s all he knows, he barely remembers the home that burned to the ground when he was four, and it´s familiar in a faintly comforting way.

Getting a room with only one bed for the better part of four years had felt like a punch in the guts every time, reminding him of his failure to keep both Sam and Dad at his side. He knows his father blamed him for being unable to make Sam stay, not being good enough to satisfy his brother, and the truth in it hurt more than his father ditching him barely a month after Sam was gone. 

Sam shuffles into the room behind him, falling onto the bed with a deep groan, and the way Deans stomach clenches reminds him why a tiny part of him was relieved Sam left. Then Sam grins at him tiredly, asks if he´s in the mood to order pizza and watch a movie, and Dean remembers why that part lost against the monster that makes him love Sam in all the wrong ways. 

He grins back and nods, spouting some bullshit comment that makes Sam roll his eyes while he´s really just greedily drinking in the picture of Sam sprawled out on the bed, eyes flickering to the strip of skin where his shirt has ridden up and away again.  
***  
Eating pizza and watching movies with Sam is a tradition that reaches back into their early childhood and Dean has always loved it. Even during Sam´s teenage years, when he´d grown sullen and angry, withdrawing even from Dean, when Dean proposed a night of shitty horror movies for them to mock Sam had always come around. 

The room doesn´t have a couch, so they are both seated on Sam´s bed, pizza cartons and a sixpack in front of them. Sam finds a marathon of old monster movies on TV and it doesn´t take long for them to start ridiculing the horrible costumes and bad production. It´s easy to fall back into that comfortable routine, and for the first time since Sam came back Dean feels truly relaxed and at peace next to his brother. 

The beer is gone soon and Dean digs a bottle of cheap whiskey out of his duffel. He´s a little buzzed, but not drunk yet and he knows it´s probably not smart to continue drinking. He might do something he wouldn´t do sober. Nobody´s ever accused Dean of being smart, though, and when he returns to the bed with the whiskey Sam grins and gets the plastic cups from the bathroom instead of refusing like he usually does. 

It´s a bad idea, and Dean knows it, but when Sam drinks and Dean can´t tear his eyes away from the way his brothers throat rolls as he swallows, he tilts his head back and downs the first cup anyway. It does nothing to settle the greedy monster nestled between his ribs.  
***  
Dean wakes up with a headache that feels like his head is being caved in and a taste like something dead on his tongue. He rolls out of bed and staggers into the bathroom, only just making it to the toilet before he throws up. 

The door he slammed shut opens and blessedly cool fingers stroke his neck. He can hear Sam´s breathing, even and comforting, and rests his feverish cheek on the cold porcelain with a sigh. 

“Remind me not to drink so much ever again.” He bites out, and Sam laughs softly. It´s still loud enough to aggravate Deans head and he groans. 

“Like you´d ever listen to me, dude.” Sam tells him quietly, and yeah, okay, that´s probably true. 

He tries to remember the last night, but after the fourth cup of whiskey it´s all foggy and unclear. Trying to concentrate makes his head pound even more, so he decides to postpone his efforts for the time being. That´s shot to shit though, because Sam suddenly asks, “Do you remember last night?”, and when Dean turns to look at him the fog lifts and he remembers, he remembers just fucking fine. 

Only he wishes he didn´t, because he remembers Sam smiling, wide and easy, remembers the whiskey erasing the warning voice, erasing his conscience, remembers leaning in and kissing Sam, sloppy and open mouthed. He remembers confessing everything, how he´d fallen apart when Sam had left for Stanford, how he´d been miserable without him, how scared he was Sam would leave again. He remembers confessing just how sick he was, admitting everything, that he loves Sam more than he should, that he wants to kiss him, wants to touch him, wants to keep him forever, that he´d do anything, anything at all if it meant he got Sam. 

Dean looks at his baby brother, who´s patiently waiting for him to answer, and promptly throws up again.  
***  
For once the Impala´s purr isn´t soothing. The wide, open road makes him feel lost instead of free and suddenly he can´t stand it anymore. Dean pulls over, stares at his trembling hands clutching the wheel. 

He ran as soon as he could stand, pushing Sam away and putting on random clothes with jerky, hasty movements. Sam had called for him to stop, to wait, “We need to talk about this, Dean, come on, don´t-“, and Dean had just grabbed his keys and slammed the door into his little brother´s face. He´s not sure where he is, he´d just started driving blindly, aimlessly, his only thought to get away. 

He ruined everything, all that effort he put into hiding what a pervert he is for nothing. Dean groans, rests his forehead on the steering wheel and clenches his eyes shut. He´ll never drink again, he fucking swears. Not that it´s gonna help any, the cat is out of the bag anyway. 

Dean realizes he´ll have to go back to get his stuff, and even though he doesn´t think he can stand seeing Sam look at him with disgust, maybe even hate, he owes it to his brother. If Sam wants to take a swing at him Dean sure as hell isn´t going to stop him, he deserves a lot more. He smiles self-deprecatingly. 

Maybe it´s right that everyone leaves him. Maybe Sam and John had sensed how fucked up he is even without knowing how sick he really is. 

Choking back more tears (because, damn it, he´s not a fucking baby) Dean turns the keys in the ignition and gets back on the road, he fucked up, he´s gonna take the consequence like a man. It´s bad enough Sam witnessed him so broken down and pathetic last night, he doesn´t have to act like even more of a pussy. 

It takes a few wrong turns to find his way back to the motel, he hadn´t exactly looked at the signs during his flight from Sam and he doesn´t remember where he drove. He manages eventually, but then he just sits in the parking lot, hypnotizing the door and wringing his hands. The prospect of facing Sam terrifies him more than any monster ever has.  
***  
It´s evening when Dean actually slinks into the motel room. He shuts the door behind himself quietly, keeping his eyes on the floor, shoulders hunched. There is no reaction to his entrance; Sam is asleep, awkwardly positioned around his laptop like he fell asleep during research again. It isn´t all that surprising that Sam would be tired, he usually is after drinking the night before and they´d stayed up late, anyway. 

Guilt is heavy in his stomach as he watches Sam sleep, drinking him in in case it´s the last time he´ll ever see him. Dean jumps when Sam sleepily mutters, “Dean?” cursing himself for being unable to let go and waiting too long. 

“Yeah, uhm, sorry for waking you. I´ll be gone in a second.” He manages, flinching at the way his voice shakes. 

“What? No!” 

Sam is up before Dean has processed the yelp, swaying on his feet for a few seconds before he finds his balance. 

“Don´t you dare run again!” 

Dean twitches but stays where he is. He can feel Sam´s eyes on him, burning, but can´t bring himself to meet them. There´s silence, neither of them moving or speaking. It´s oppressive, heavy with unspoken implications. The anticipation becomes unbearable, any resolutions he had about staying calm and taking whatever Sam wants to dish out crumble and Dean blurts: “I´m sorry, Sammy, please, I´m so sorry! I didn´t mean for you to know, I swear, I wouldn´t ever have acted on it, please, just don´t-“he breaks off, chokes on a sob. 

“Please don´t hate me.” He whispers, humiliated by the way his voice breaks. 

Dean falls silent again, waiting for Sam to announce the death sentence. When he´s enveloped by strong arms and pulled against Sam´s firm chest it´s the last thing he expects. He stiffens, unsure what to make of the turn of events, and Sam whispers,

“Shh, s´okay, calm down, Dean.” 

Sam´s hands are rubbing slow circles on Dean´s back, holding him close. 

“I could never hate you, Dean, how could you even think that?” 

The relief is staggering. Dean tears up, going lax in Sam´s embrace as he clings to his brother. 

“M´sorry, Sammy.” He mutters into his brother´s shoulder, and Sam shushes him, holding him tighter. 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He says, and Dean lifts his head, looking at Sam with burning eyes. 

“Sam, what-?” 

Sam smiles at him, cups his cheek, and Dean can´t help but lean into the gentle touch. 

“I´m in love with you too, you moron. Didn´t get a chance to tell you, you passed out last night before I could say it and this morning you ran.” 

Dean swallows. Sam can´t mean that, chances that not just one but both of them are fucked up are really fucking low, but the patient, earnest look Sam´s wearing say´s he can, and does. 

“You done freaking out now?” Sam asks with a smirk, and Dean nods, even though he´s still a mess. 

“Good, ´cause then I can do this.” 

Before Dean can ask what in the world “this” is Sam´s mouth slants over his, slotting their lips together tightly, and after that he just doesn´t care about anything else than the way his brothers soft, slightly chapped lips feel against his anymore.  
***  
Dean wakes up feeling warm. Uncomfortably so, actually, he´s sweating and it feels like he´s pressed against a space heater. Upon further investigation the space heater turns out to be Sam, plastered against Dean´s back, naked skin sweat-slick where they´re touching. 

Sam’s leg is thrown over Dean´s thigh and his arm is firmly wrapped around his chest, keeping him in place. His breath slides over Dean´s neck, making him shiver. Dean is fully awake instantly, stiffening in Sam´s arms, and his brother makes an unhappy sound so he forces his muscles to relax with a conscious effort. 

The night plays in Dean´s mind like a movie, soft, tentative kisses that turned feverish and passionate, skin sliding against skin once they´d managed to get undressed, frenzied groping and licking and biting. Sam´s mouth on every inch of Dean´s body, sucking his cock, licking his ass slick and open. He almost moans at the memory of that, Sam´s tongue licking and sucking his hole, wiggling inside, had been the most intoxicating thing he´d ever felt. 

At least until Sam´s fingers had joined the party, working him open until Sam could just slide right in; completely filling Dean´s ass with that huge cock Dean had been fantasizing about for years. 

It had been the best night of Dean´s life, without a doubt, but now, in the morning light, his stomach twists in fear. There´s a lot of ways this could go, and too many of them end with one of them walking out. 

“I can hear you freaking out, you know.” Sam mutters against his neck, voice rough from sleep. 

Dean swallows, closing his eyes. 

“Do you regret it?” he asks, then shudders when Sam nips at the joint of shoulder and neck gently. 

“Don´t be an idiot, Dean.” 

It´s said too softly to be a reprimand. 

“So, what now?” he lets out a shuddering breath, “I mean, where does this leave us?” 

Sam nuzzles his neck, nosing at his jaw, and Dean can´t help but relax in his brothers embrace. 

“Well, I was thinking that leaves us with a lot of mind blowing sex in our future.” Sam teases, making Dean shudder again as goosebumps pebble his skin. 

Sam seems to notice Dean is still a little freaked out and kisses his shoulder. 

“Don´t worry about it, Dean. We´re still brothers, there´s just a little more to our relationship now. I won´t run and I don´t expect a ring either.” Sam assures him. 

Dean goes lax, letting go of the lingering worries. He can have this, Sam wants this, and while that doesn´t make it any less wrong it´s good enough for Dean. They´ve never been normal anyway, so he doesn´t worry much about social norms. He´d been worried Sam would balk because it wasn´t normal, but if his brother didn´t care, why should be? 

Wiggling around in Sam´s arms until he faces his brother Dean takes in the sleep fuzzy, content look on Sam´s face and smiles as he presses his lips to his brothers. 

This thing between them, whatever it is, is making them both happy; and that´s enough.


End file.
